Photography: Bruno, Lopes, images copyright and courtesy of the artists and Vera Cortês

We shall begin with a collage: the piece by Haris Epaminonda from which this exhibition takes its title. Overlaying and juxtaposition, what is visible and what is hidden, newly formed relations and the invention of new images could have been the starting points for this project. And they might have. Maybe the way I see and think about art is composed of collages. In my head, the works of Haris Epaminonda and those of Francisco Tropa have resonated together too many times. They occupy the same spaces, they stand still in the same place, unveiling artefacts and creating narratives that, like collages, were made of connections, omissions, and discoveries.

I will share with you a dream I had. While taking a nap in some lazy afternoon, I saw myself entering a house, but didn’t go further than the entrance atrium, where I felt the anticipation of its interior. I decided not to enter, what I found there was enough.

There, the world was decided in a match amid fountains and flowers. A man hid behind a column and spoke to me in an unknown language that, strangely, I could answer to. He called for me. I acquiesced. Farther away, on the left, a group of men and women drank and played games. They were creating geometrical shapes and talking about the world not being just round and finite, but more than just this house of golden adorations, in Pompey. We bathed ourselves in a fountain surrounded by stones. With the water slightly over my knees, I looked up and saw the peaks of the Himalayas.

What a strange world we’re in, where you can see the Himalayas when standing in Pompey. What a strange world we’re in, where an exhibition comes to you in a dream.